Hero of the New Wave
by DarkAkatsuk1
Summary: Nothing in life ever goes as planned. He only wanted a quiet, peaceful life. Instead, he became the glorious Inquisitor of the Holy Church. He doesn't even believe in God.
1. Prologue PT 1

– Prologue –

* * *

"I am the Alpha and the Omega," says the Lord God, "who is, and who was, and who is to come, the Almighty."

— Revelations 1:8

* * *

In a dark room, a lone boy in his early teens sat on a bench hunchbacked, hair still wet from the shower he had taken only minutes prior. A plain white towel lay on his head to obscure his vision and to prevent others from seeing his features, but still allows them to make out a thin frame that has grown to be accustomed to running, complimented by four claw scars across his chest. By his side are the priests' vestments he is to wear from this day forth.

Slowly, the boy stood up and finished drying his hair, revealing snow white hair and icy blue eyes. He donned the given clothes, however uncomfortable they may be, and made his way out of the room.

Today would mark his first day as an exorcist of the Church. He wasn't a Christian, and his thoughtless attitude towards the sanctified cloth only proved it further. So why would he be here in the headquarters of a militant church order, if he isn't as faithful as he believes himself to be?

It all started on a cold night in Italy…

* * *

 _(flashback)_

 _The usual kind of night, really. It's dark, it's cold, and everyone is in a hurry to not stay outside. Perfect setting for a burglar or thief to conveniently bump into others and slickly take what isn't theirs and make their way out of reach from an unsuspecting, ignorant victim._

"… _So thirsty…" a figure breathed out, red eyes flashing left and right at the many delicacies that were walking around. So leisurely, so defenselessly… so willfully ignorant of what is in front of them. Saliva threatened to drip from her mouth as she set her eyes on a modest establishment. It doesn't matter if a small shop like that disappears overnight, will it? Of course it won't._

 _And so the tale of this unfortunate boy begins._

" _You wouldn't mind not going to that place, would you?" a voice interrupted "I'm actually quite fond of that place."_

 _The feminine figure turned to the boy who called out to her. He was wearing a gray hoodie that hid his frame, but she could make out the eyes. His smile told her how weak he is. And the shaking, whether it be from fear or the cold, it didn't matter to her._

" _It appears I've happened upon a tasty little morsel," her red eyes scanned the approaching young man hungrily and found itself drawn, "Those eyes…" she drank in the sight of those succulent, ice blue eyes, "…oh, the blood… it sings to me…" his figure is hidden by that gray hoodie, but she could tell that he is very well-built underneath, "…such an aroma that can't be possibly ignored…!"_

 _He smiled disarmingly, moving a hand behind his back. Inside however, he is sweating._ 'This is bad' _, the man thought to himself nervously. Of all things to meet at night, why did it have to be a bloody vampire?_ 'Why aren't the local exorcists doing anything about this? I mean, the Vatican is right next to this place, for crying out loud!'

" _And what is this blood telling you to do now, vampire? To drink it and bask in… whatever vocabulary words you have?" he continued, keeping up his charade. If he can alert those Church hunters without having to go through the trouble of fighting the vampire, he can still live quite peacefully for a couple more weeks._

" _Ahaha~ oh no," she gasped out, ecstasy dripping from her voice, her lips curling sickly upwards, "I don't care if I'm found by the Vatican anymore!" The monster bared her fangs, fingers bending outlandishly into talons and looking absolutely rapey. "I will drink all of that irresistible blood of yours, boy!"_

… _On second thought, he can always engage. He preferred his fluid inside himself, thank you very much._

" _Oh, is that so?" he nonchalantly replied, taking a Tommy gun out from his back and leveled it at-_

 _The vampire widened her eyes, and the sound of a safety switch flicked._

 ***RA-TATATATATATATATATATATATATATATA!***

 _She jerked and twitched as the young man blew a shower of white-hot load all over her submissive body._

" _HRAAAAAH!" he roared, continuing to unload his automatic gun at his adversary. Civilians nearby screamed, the sound of gunfire frightening some away while others cowered and prayed that they did not get hit. The force behind the bullets eventually sent the vampire flying and crashing through a shop window, shattering glass everywhere inside and out._

 _Soon, the clicks of an empty machine gun filled the air around._

* * *

He walked his way down the corridor, trying to make out the signs that led to where his orientation and subsequent indoctrination into the league of hunters of the Church would be. Never did he imagine he would be working for the Church again. Not since the last one was liquidated and its core members nowhere to be seen again, and all his fellow participants scattering to other places to… do whatever.

One of them, last he heard, even became an exorcist of the Church. And was subsequently excommunicated afterwards. He didn't really care much for that.

What matters is that he's now in the care of the Church, and now one of their many pawns. The young man didn't really care about his position. He's alive, and it'll be alright for him. No need to be a hero and go out to risk his life for others. Let the other so-called "heroes" do it. He's fine with being a common mook.

So where is this chamber he has to go to? No idea, even with the signs.

…He's totally lost.

There has to be someone who knows the way around. Doesn't even have to be completely specific, just a general direction to go in. Someone who looks authentic and looks like he runs this place, a chief if you must… well, there's only one person close to him in this corridor right now, and he's right there. The specified man appears to be in his middle age, dressed sharply in clean vestments and has black hair. He seems to be a diligent man, and has a calm, composed, and serious expression plastered on his feature.

Putting on a cheerful and polite smile, he walked towards the man and asked without stumbling,

"Excuse me? Do you know where I can find where the recruits are being indoctrinated?" The man turned and stared at him with narrow eyes, as if to make out any imperfections. A glimmer passed through his eyes in recognition.

"You must be our newest addition," he said. "State your name, boy." At that, the teen saluted.

"Frost Ziegler. At your service, sir."

* * *

 _(flashback continue)_

'Alright, so that's a thing. Now that I've bought some time for myself, I should clear these people away…' _the boy turned his eyes toward the gathering bystanders, both the ones drawn towards the sound and those escaping the shop the vampire is now in._

" _H-He's a murderer!"_

" _Help! He'll kill us all!"_

" _What have you done, you monster?!"_

" _Holy fucking shit!"_

 _Frost ignored the collective, rising yells of 'Murderer!' and 'She's dead!' and other similar outcries and quickly reloaded his gun, and proceeds to fire at the feet of the crowd, scaring them away from the scene. It was much faster to scare them away than to try and calm them down enough to make them move away. Now the local police are going to be after his ass and be on their way to clean up this mess._

 _Or not. He knew how vampires worked. And vampires don't die from an entire casing of lead bullets. It has to be silver bullets. Or blessed bullets, for that matter. And he doubted that the local church will just bless drum magazines full of live .45 ACP rounds and leave it at that._

 _As for silver, he's on a budget. Damn it all._

" _Tch!" he clicked his tongue irritably as a familiar chilling itch invaded his palm. He stepped through the shattered window as the vampire rose from the ground, bullet wounds mending quickly from the onslaught._

" _Ohohoho, that is just cute! The little boy thinks he can go up against me~!" the vampire laughed tauntingly. Frost quickly began to dig up whatever knowledge he knew about tactics against vampires. Holy water is anathema to vampires, no doubt about that, but he doesn't have any on him. Garlic simply repulses them and doesn't serve as anything better than a minor deterrent, despite what popular beliefs say. Crosses function in a similar manner as garlic. Silver is self-explanatory. Bible verses are basically a weaker version of holy water… and there are only a few he knew to heart. Aside from all that though, vampires can regenerate quickly just like in the movies, but their body can only recover if the brain is intact…_

 _He stared down at the couple dented bullets that lay on the ground and looked around the shop. Lead bullets cannot penetrate a vampire's skin, huh? That only means he got lucky for the ones that did get inside her. Clogs in his mind whirred, and he made a decision._

 _Alright, that's step one down. Now he has to come up with a plan now that she is, no doubt, about to go into a long monologue about how she's going to rip out his entrails and drink from his intestines and whatever colorful diction the supernatural has to dish out these days._

 _The woman dug a finger sensually into one of her hole, peeling off whatever rancid flesh made up her leg, and allowing the lead to fall out on its own. Alright, he didn't know anything about vampire behaviors, but if this is one of their ways to intimidate or repulse their enemy, then she succeeded. That's just disgusting._

"… _If you aren't going to do anything-"_

 _He snapped out of his thoughts. She had already sprung forth, salivating mouth open and ready to be filled. His body reacted._

" _Then I'll be digging in-"_

 _She bit down… and met nothing. When she opened her eyes, she found the stock of the Tommy gun flying towards her face. It connected against her mouth, resulting in the unpleasant sound of bone crushing._

 _"AAARGH!" she shrieked, both hands shooting towards her mouth to stem some blood from escaping, "MY TEETH! YOU BROKE MY TEE-"_

 _"KYAAAH! Frost was not proud nor was he ashamed to admit that he pretty much screamed like a little girl, ramming the Tommy gun's butt at her head with all his might. She flew again, but this time, regained her bearing in midair and flipped onto her feet onto a coffee table. This time, the vampire was prepared for the bullets that flew her way, dodging fluidly as she made her way to him, intending to rip him apart. She did not anticipate her prey suddenly throwing his gun at her, which while she did dodge, she did not anticipate him grabbing her head by the hair roughly and slamming his knee repeatedly at her mouth._

 _She screamed in pain again, a primal rage settling in. This brat… this ingrate! Her screams allowed Frost to grab his tossed gun in midair and shoot at her, this time at her eyes. She couldn't dodge, as her anger did not allow her to think about dodging but to instead block and hold out until he runs out of his damn pellets to charge at him. Lead bullets are of no concern to her, so why does it matter if some entered her?_

 _The moment the hail of bullets stopped was her cue to strike. The vampire gave out a deranged laugh as she flew towards him and grabbed hold of his gun and threw it far away. Now weaponless, she swiped ferociously at him, ripping the hoodie into pieces and spilling blood across the pavement and walls. She rejoiced at the sight of the familiar red viscous splatters and gave a triumphant laugh._

 _Frost fell back to the floor, gasping and clasping onto his wounded chest. Damn, her claws went deep. "You never stood a chance, sweetie~" she cooed mockingly, making her way towards the wounded boy who was slowly inching away from her. The projectiles that had penetrated her were slowly pushed out as she regenerated to full health, "Don't worry. I'll be sure to take good care of your body when I'm done with you."_

" _Well, that's reassuring," he snarked._

" _Of course, dear! You lost your weapon. You're losing blood by the second. And at any moment now, you will lose consciousness," the vampire stated condescendingly, her vampiric features receding into a dark, seductive expression that if Frost had not known that she was a vampire, he would have found it really hot. But alas. "And I stand here, with everything you've done for naught. What can you do,_ human _?"_

 _Frost sighed and stood up shakily, "Then it looks like I have no choice. I have to use my secret weapon."_

 _That caught the vampire's attention and wiped the smirk on her face. He still has more? Well, no matter. "Please humor me. I will bring me great pleasure to spill your blood once more."_

" _I'll give you a hint. It involves using my legs," he patted them for emphasis. If she had paid more attention, she would have noticed that they had stopped shaking._

" _And then?" she prepared herself for the imminent confrontation. His eyes gleamed._

" _I run away," immediately, he bolted, as if he had not even been wounded moments ago, into the alleyway next to him._

 _Again, the vampire was slow to react to the nonsequitar that just occurred. "…Hmm. So he was faking his shock all along," she observed now that her blood rage has simmered down. For a human, losing a pint of blood will cause lightheadedness regardless of whether they had participated in strenuous activities or not. For her target, he'll probably last a few minutes before he retires, "How cunning of him… but all in vain, regardless."_

 _She looked down at her stained hands. His blood is still fresh in her memories. The smell is so, so… exquisite. How can a human have blood of such high quality? She must have it. Must have more! More! Her pants slowly became moans of pleasure as she licked the blood on her claws. It sent shocks through her entire body._

" _A~hahahaha…"_

* * *

"Frost Ziegler?" the man repeated, curiosity sparking in his now-softened eyes, "That's a... curious name."

"Yeah. People had taken to calling me 'Zieg' thinking I'm a descendant of that Sigurd before," Frost admitted, following the man guiding him to his meeting area, "As nice as that sounds, I'm not a hero's descendant."

"Really?" the man hummed thoughtfully, gesturing him to follow. The two walked down the corridor in silence, the man turning his eyes towards the younger of the two from time to time whilst the other ventured without much to add. "…I suppose I should start early then. I am Ewald Cristaldi, Cardinal Deacon and Left Hand of the Pontiff. I will be the teacher and mentor of every rookie exorcists for the time being. That extends to you as well, Ziegler."

Frost blinked. Well, he never thought he would meet such a big gun from the Church so early in his career. "Oh." Now he feels a tad awkward. "...Should I refer to you as Your Eminence, or...?"

"By all means, continue speaking to me as you had before when it's only the two of us together. It is refreshing to have a young one speak to me so casually."

"Well, don't mind if I do then, teach."

* * *

 _(flashback continues)_

 _Frost slowed down as he made his way towards a particular door in another alley. Hurriedly fumbling at the lock with a pick and a makeshift tension wrench, he got in and locked and bolted the door. Wherever he is, it'll do until he stops his bleeding. Damn, the she-demon dug deep. His heart nearly got grazed. At this rate, he might lose consciousness if he doesn't get bandaged up quick._

 _Getting caught for breaking and entering is already a crime, but compared to evisceration by vampire claws, he preferred getting caught by the former. "Don't mind if I come in," he whispered as he walked quietly about._

… _Alright, inventory check. On his being, he has a folding knife, some grenades that he really didn't want to detonate, and some steel wire. What he could do with all of these, he can probably improvise if the vamp tries to chase him… no,_ when _the vamp catches up to him. These wires can pull the pins from the grenades, now the real question is HOW he will wrap the wires that will be most effective._

 _Oh, and he'll need to retrieve his Tommy gun once all of this blows over. He likes that gun. It costed him a fortune to get, and he isn't exactly willing to part with an antique like that._

 _Some bandages would be nice, though. He turned towards a wall, getting a good glimpse from a mirror of the marks across his chest. If he hadn't gone into shock yet, maybe he is now, because he's seeing a lot of his doubles. He turned around to look at the bunch of doubles. They're everywhere, from his right… to his left… up above… down below…_

'…Wait.'

 _He raised a hand to scratch his nose to confirm his thoughts, which all the other Frosts did in tandem with him. Never mind, false alarm… well, that was still pretty embarrassing. Still, this setup can be useful for him. It will be his new trap against that crazy psycho bitch._

 _He better get started once he patches himself up._

 _ ***CRASH***_

… _Or better yet, NOW. Those windows definitely didn't shatter themselves._

" _Come out, come out, my dear little rat," he heard the vampire sing condescendingly. He quickly took off what remained of his hoodie and tied it tightly around his torso, creating an improvised bandage and began the layout of his plan, "It will be nice and quick death if you come out now."_

 _He'd rather not. He dug a hand underneath his hoodie to get his hand bloodied a good amount, and promptly flicked it in a random direction and walked to his intended location. If what he remembered about vampires are true, their senses become very honed whenever blood is involved, and the most dominant is the sense of smell, second being sight. With him bleeding out as it is, no doubt he'll be tracked down and killed, so even if it only buys him a few seconds, he can still mislead that monster. Vampires, particularly feral ones, tend to follow the easier path when put on the spot, and this particular one has a rather one-tracked mind compared to the ones in stories he heard._

" _There you are~!" he heard, along with the crashing of a table and chair. This plan won't have to take long after all. "…You are actually starting to piss me off, human. You must believe you are really clever if you think you can just play with my smell. Well, you're not, you hear me!?_ NOT! _"_

 _She seemingly felt a disturbance in the air and eagerly whipped a claw around to swipe at the object thrown at her. It detonated before she could do anything, though, sending shrapnel of lacerating metals across her undead body. Again, she roared in pain, understandably losing her calm and turning to rage as a response to the trick._

" _You little shit! When I find you, I will tear off your head and use it as an ornamental piece on my bedstand!" she made a statement he hasn't heard before, so props to her._

 _There, that should do it. He made one final adjustment to his plan and now… here comes the part he wished he didn't have to do: coming out into the open._

 _The vampire didn't expect Frost to come out of his hiding place, but then again, what did it matter? He is going to die. Slowly, she raised a hand pointed like a spear towards her prey, and the talons extended, piercing Frost at the head, heart, and shoulders. An attack a human cannot survive without enhancements. "And so it ends. It was worthwhile as it lasted, human. Now die like one, by the hands of a greater being."_

…

…

…

" _Heheh," he chuckled, alerting the vampire once more._

" _W-what?" she snarled, clearly not expecting him to still be standing. In fact, there wasn't any blood coming out!_

" _You must be wondering,_ 'how is this pathetic human still standing after getting a hole in his head?' _," Frost smiled rather joyously at his enemy's predicament. "Take a look again, woman, and tell me what you see." Frost took great pleasure in seeing his adversary looking about and realizing what is happening._

 _His plan was to stand at the correct angle behind the vampire in front of a large mirror. When her sense of smell failed her, she turned to her sense of sight and focused solely on it, thus allowing Frost to stand behind her without alerting her to his presence._

" _This… this is a mirror shop!" the vampire seethed, the sight of her prey seemingly multiplied enraging her further. She cursed the fact that vampires couldn't be seen through mirrors, and she cursed the brat who dared to stand up against her. How dare he. How dare he!_

" _That's right, lady. It's a mirror shop. You can't tell who is what, not without a reflection of your own to help you." She spotted one of them throw a grenade at her. She scoffed. As if it will ever touch her. She swiftly weaved her hand around it and deflected it back at the boy… but she failed to notice the strings attached to that grenade that pulled the pins of so many other grenades of other varieties behind her._

" _And you can't even survive against the tactics born from the cities!" he laughed at her. All the images laughed alongside him, mocking her. "Look at the grenade carefully, woman!"_

 _Finally, she noticed the explosives that have rolled underneath her, each and every one of them with pins attached to strings pulled out. Eyes shot wide in horror._

" _You…_ You! _" the vampire screeched her last words._

" _The name is Frost Ziegler. Remember that when the grim reaper asks who brought you to him."_

 _She lets out an inhuman death wail as the grenades underneath exploded._

 _…_

 ***BOOOOOOOOM!***

 _Frost leapt out in time, but still got blown out of the building and onto the streets in an unceremonious manner. Coughing and swiping at the air to clear his view, his mind hazy from blood loss, he dizzily got up with great difficulty and walked away from the building as casually as he could, staying out of view as he did._

'…Okay, so nothing tonight went as planned at all. I completely underestimated the kickback of those grenades.' _Frost looked down as his chest and smiled grimly at his chest wound, noting that it had been exacerbated by the amount of work and force on his body. Turns out fragmentation and incendiary grenades should never mix together, though that may have been him miscalculating the amount of TNT filler in the former._

 _Either way, this is just fucking great._ _Forget surviving the encounter, he might actually die from the blood loss._

…

…

…

… _Huh. And here he thought that he would go into shock at the thought of dying. Fucking crazy-ass vampire. If she hadn't been after his life, he might have been attracted to her. She was even his type._

 _He arrived at a building and entered. How he managed to get back to his dingy apartment without fainting along the way, which is rather far away from the ruined building if he thought about it, he doesn't know, but it is rather convenient. What he really needs now is to get to his bathroom, properly treating his wounds, and then sleep off his injuries like a_ really _bad hangover._

 _Frost walked languidly into his bathroom and loosened the hoodie around his chest. Good God, there's blood everywhere. At least his wound wasn't leaking at the moment. He made a reminder to burn his hoodie first thing in the morning. Why did he even think about fighting a vampire at night? …Oh, right. It's because he has no clue where it would sleep. He supposed it was part of his good luck that it wasn't a Daywalker._

 _Anyways, back to his wound. Whatever bacteria and diseases the vampire had on her claws, it needs to be disinfected right away. He opened the mirror and got out a bottle of rubbing alcohol, some cotton balls, a suture needle, and a roll of suture thread. With careful focus, he soaked the cotton balls and began cleaning and ridding his body of the dried blood. Once he made sure that he cleaned off every speck of blood from his body, he took a deep breath and threaded the needle, sewing close the four gaping wounds on his chest region._

 _It's a good thing he is numb to the pain, otherwise he would be flinching and screaming at every moment he dabbed his wound with the blistering alcohol and stitched his wound along the way. It took a good hour to finally close all four of them, and once he was appropriately patched up, he fell onto his bed._

 _He can deal with the fallout that is inevitable the next day. He has earned this rest, he thought as sleep overcame him without issue._

* * *

(present day)

"I was scouted by one of your guy… girl, I mean. It felt kind of weird to wake up and find someone sitting on your couch first thing in the morning," Frost admitted to his superior.

"Ah. Did she treat you well?"

"Let's just say that she wasn't exactly the warmest of individuals and leave it at that. I get the feeling she might be watching me from afar and will plan whatever righteous feminine wrath on me if I talk bad about her."

Cristaldi chuckled lightly at his statement, "How considerate of you."

"Not really. I just like being careful," Frost shrugged.

The Deacon nodded, "That just leaves me with one more question. Why did you accept the offer to join?" The younger of the two appeared confused. "You didn't have to accept. You would still be under our watch, but the prospect of an alliance or contract with the Church would not be far away from your reach. So why is it that you decided to join and become a part of it instead?"

Frost paused to ponder that question. Why indeed? He decided that this is a time to be honest… well, as honest as he can be without revealing his intentions.

"I… well, I'll be truthful. I'm not one for vows and celibacy, so I believe my chances of becoming a legitimate priest is close to nil," Frost answered honestly. "But I believe that I will get what I wish for if I join the ranks of the exorcist. I can still achieve that same wish if I remained as I was before, but having something to back me up without question is monumentally better."

"So you want to combat the darkness alongside your fellow men, but in the name of God," Cristaldi stated. Frost nodded, intentionally not correcting the man's assumption.

After all, his mind is saying, _'I want to be safe and sound within the confines of a massive organization where I will live long and prosper without any worry for my life.'_ But no one needs to know that. Nevertheless, his previous statement is still the truth. His wish is to " _be safe"_ , and he'll get it if he joins the Church.

Linguistics is a dirty bitch.

Cristaldi breathed out slowly, "Pity. I was hoping you would not have to join our fray." Frost froze. Wait, what? So it wasn't necessary to join as an _exorcist_? He only had to masquerade as a priest to keep living comfortably? "But you have managed to not only confront a vampire that has eluded even the greatest of trackers in the Church, but also neutralize her albeit in the most widespread manner I've ever seen in the last 12 years as Deacon. Your skill set would truly be more attuned towards eliminating the enemies of mankind instead."

Bastard-mother-taco-fuck. He severely wished he could travel back in time now, just to undo this massive mistake.

"I will respect your decision, Ziegler. So let me be the first to welcome you as an exorcist of the Church, and as a hand that will carry out His will," Ewald Cristaldi extended a hand to Frost, who took it and shook hard. "I expect great things from you, son. Don't dash them as others already have."

' _That dirty… she tricked me, didn't she?!'_ "I'll do my best, sir," Frost's thought and what he said did not line up with each other, but regardless he managed to keep a jolly smile.

' _Great. This is what I get for being honest just once.'_

* * *

 **A/N: Alright, so here's the sitrep. The reason I'm writing an OC-centric story again is actually really meta. I've wanted to write a story about the Angel and Church faction of DxD because sadly, they almost never get any proper screen time. This story will have a lot of influence in how I write the exorcists in Son of Sparda DxD (and if anyone can see where I draw my inspiration of them from, kudos to you). Now you see why this is really fucking meta? Take it as you will.**

 **So no Issei. No Devil peerage joining, especially. This is an entirely original story depicting the exorcists' side of the story, and my (and Frost's) unholy perspective of the Church Faction and its higher echelon, Angel Faction. Oh, and meet Frost Ziegler. He's not your average protagonist.**

 **With that said and done, review! I must be fed reviews in order to motivate myself to write! And review again!**

 **-DarkAkatsuk1, being a selfish prick and starting a new story when he has other more important things he's supposed to do, the lazyass.**


	2. Prologue PT 2

**Disclaimer:** I do not own High School DxD.

* * *

– Prologue: Part 2 –

* * *

"He shall judge the world in righteousness, and He shall administer judgment for the peoples in uprightness."

– Psalm 9:8

* * *

 _'Alright, I got in... Now I want out.'_

Frost was so sure he knew what he was doing. Now that he knows what being an exorcist entailed, he knows better. Only problem is, he now has the eyes of a high-profile priest on him.

Ewald Cristaldi is a celebrity within the Vatican, and by extension, in Italy. In the outside world, he is known all over Europe for his charismatic voice and impassioned teachings that have converted many to Christianity in the past ten years. In the supernatural world, he is the 3rd highest ranking official of the Holy Church and is capable of wielding six of Excalibur fragments without being rejected. That is enough to warrant Frost's wariness.

In other words, simply leaving is out of the question and deserting will just get him on the Church's s/hit list, which he is 93% sure exists. The only things that he could think on the spot that will get him out without any issue are to get mutilated or claim mental instability, and he isn't exactly fond of those plans. He'd rather have his limbs attached to his body, and he is certain that being "insane" brings up even more issues.

Damn it. What can he do? What else is-

"Okay," a soft deadpan spoke up, interrupting his thoughts. "Your wounds were clumsily sewn, but that has been remedied. We're trying to get some O-type blood at the moment, so the transfusion will be later. You will need to keep from strenuous activities for a week if you don't want to faint from lack of blood, though."

Frost turned his attention to the girl who had been drawing blood from him and doing all those medical things he has no knowledge about. Honestly, he doesn't even know what that bag attached to his arm hanging to that pole is for. It worked, and it didn't really matter how it worked. Why is he here again?

...Ah, right. He remembers now.

After it was made known that he lost over 600 CC of blood and the wounds from his encounter with the vampire had not fully healed yet, Cristaldi had him placed on hold until he is fully restored. He was told that it is amazing that for his age, he hadn't gone into shock after losing so much blood, but really, it just felt like a bad Tuesday to him.

This all led to now, him being hooked with needles in his arm.

"Thanks, Simona," he said to his current caretaker, whom he had learned about when the Deacon dismissed him to her. Simona is a lithe girl who stood only a head shorter than him, and carries with her an air of recluse and no-nonsense with her. Dressed in a modest nun's habit, her hair is hidden by a matching cowl, making her appear much older than she really is. Dull amethyst orbs blink at him, clearing his mind of any narration he was giving, "Any good news?"

"None," she responded, "Unless you count me treating your undeserving life out of all the other exorcists who needed help and will die because you are a priority."

…Well, if she's going to be salty like that, "I'm sure they're thankful of you not being there for them," he said with a refreshing smile. She stared emotionlessly at him before ripping the IV callously from his arm. He winced at the sight. "That was uncalled for."

"You deserve it," she replied coldly, reinserting a new needle. She even took the time to "accidentally" poke some new holes in his arm. "His Eminence decided that you are of the highest caliber and thus, deserve _special treatment_ ," she spoke the last two words with utter disdain. "I am obligated to follow his orders… but that does not mean I have to like it."

"I never asked to be a special snowflake, nor did I ask for a babysitter," Frost replied, seeing an opportunity to be alone and pouncing on it, "Go and help the others that need their treatments. If Cristaldi sees me relaxing like he wants me to but without your company, then that's my problem."

"It is not within my orders to follow what you say," Simona elaborated, though her disdain had faded and was replaced with something else.

"Then don't consider it an order. Think of it as a suggestion. Very big difference between the two," Frost waved his caretaker off and took off with the IV pole. After a few minutes of walking, he looked back to make sure she isn't trailing. Sure enough, that got her off his back. Now he can continue plotting his escape from this place before something actually happens. In hindsight, that loss of blood really saved his ass. There were missions that aspiring exorcists took before they were accepted into the fold, but his entry into the Church was just to kill a vampire that had eluded them for over a decade. Now he has until the other recruits come back to concoct an escape.

"But what should I do?" he asked aloud… before shrugging. He may as well go over his inventory if he doesn't have a plan. His arsenal consists of a couple holy swords – which he had the pleasure of pilfering more when no one was looking – that look completely ripped out of Star Wars and a handgun with magazines of specialized 9mm light bullets. Cristaldi had delivered him his Tommy gun earlier today when he mentioned having to go back and retrieve his beloved gun, which is now decked with drum magazines filled with silver bullets, just how he wants them. He's currently trying to get his hands on some explosives, which should be in his quarters by now. Now that that's over with… what does he do now?

He has no clue where to start. He hadn't had the chance to explore the inside of the Church just yet. Besides, it's not like there's some high-ranking priests or bishops walking about with really high-end secrets that they do not want to be revea-

His ears quivered. Someone's walking by. Frost quickly backed against a wall to provide himself some decent cover. "…if we were to extract _that_ from all the defective subjects for Project E…" he heard an aging man muttering something relating to… something. "…but they will be rendered useless… but it pays off in the end, then it will be for the greater good of the Church…" The footsteps echoed until it was no longer there, which Frost took as a cue to leave his hiding spot.

That guy looks important. Detached attitude with a dedication towards his work? Check. Bishop with a secret that he doesn't want revealed? Check. A project that is going to benefit the Holy Church if it is successful? Check.

The last time he checked, the Church doesn't do executions unless the crime is of the highest of heresy, like consorting with the devils and or fallen angels. And with what he knew of what counts as blasphemy, happening to destroy – or at least hinder – the progress of a project that hasn't bore progress of any reputable height doesn't exactly count as heresy, but is enough to be excommunicated.

Frost smiled. It looks like Lady Luck has given him his ticket out of here earlier than he'd expected.

Now let's test out those new explosives. That semtex better be worth the money he spent.

* * *

Within the stark white room, the bishop roll called and watched a liquid fluid get injected into a child's arm through a one-way mirror. "Is everyone here? Good, then we can start now," the bishop announced to his cohorts. He held up a recording device, "Entry 171. On 26, 1, 0, 9. Recorded by Valper Galilei at 2100."

Galilei stares emotionlessly at the child who struggled weakly against his bonds, until the subject finally fell limp. "Subject #31 shows minimal signs of resistance after minutes of sedation. Heart and breathing rate are now at optimal levels. No severe symptoms of illness are present at the moment. Now moving onto extraction of light element."

He nods at the priest who will be doing the extraction. At that cue, the priest moves toward the child and places a hand on the boy's chest. He utters a rite, a scripture of receiving, and at his words, the boy's eyes shot open. The room is immediately filled with screams of pain and utter agony, muffled through the thick glass to an infinitesimal level.

"Removal of the element results in intense levels of pain, despite injection of tranquilizer. Possibility of pain resulting from the psyche is high. Chance of death is high if subject's expression states otherwise," Galilei continued without any reaction to the experiment. This unnerved some of his other colleagues.

"Galilei, this is insane," one of the bishop alongside Valper urged him, "This is not the means that should have been taken. There must be some other way before we fall utterly into depravity!"

"There is no other way," Galilei states with finality. The project must go on. Too much has been invested for all of it to go to waste now. The results of other successful experiments were poured into this very moment. The morbid amount of money that was graciously donated to this experiment must be used. The expectations of the higher court and the Pontiff's Council have never been so high.

Soon, the true wielders of Excalibur will be born, and he, Valper Galilei, will be known as the one who brought and nurtured them into this forsaken world.

"Full extraction of element is successful. Subject is now unresponsive and will be prepped for clearance… no other developments to report," Galilei gave his final statement and ended the recording. He took a deep breath in, and a smile came to his face. "We've done it," the priest sighed in jubilation. His attention turned to the fellow priests, scientists and whatnot, "It matters not if the individual has too little holy element in their body. It can be extracted and passed onto another worthy candidate who can wield Excalibur! Gentlemen, after so many years, this project is a success!"

"But at what cost?" Dissent came from the same bishop beside him. "How many innocents must be sacrificed until there is no more need? How many lives must be ruined because of your machinations, Galilei?"

"I have told you that the subjects are not to be considered human. It is for the best," Valper stated coldly, which earned him a baleful glare. "These subjects have no future. They have nothing. They _are_ nothing. If anything, we are providing them a service, a chance to be part of history in the making. And even then, do you truly believe progress can be made without sacrifice?"

"Yes!" Valper sighed in disappointment when the reply came. One of the more hopeful and naïve ones. He had always despised those types of people. "There are also other instances where lives did not have to be wasted like this!"

"They are the few," he shot down. "And the few do not make up for the many. Of everything we are given, time is not in our favor."

"Yet, the possibility is still there! Must everything provide instant results to you?!"

Valper scowled. "You are a fool. History has proven otherwi-"

Suddenly, the alarms blared to life, alarming the people who were conducting the experiment.

"Galilei! We've been compromised!" a guard noted with panic.

"What?!" he swerved around in agitation. How?! He had made sure that no one was following him. Who could it be? Ewald Cristaldi did have an eye out for him… no, it couldn't be him. Galilei made sure that Cristaldi wouldn't be here when he arrived here. "Who is it?! I want a name!"

"It's…" the guard gulped, and stared at the screen showing a young man in priestly vestments, who is in Galilei's personal quarters. "It's only one person! It looks like the fresh face from two days earlier!"

Galilei gritted his teeth as he stared into the screen at the intruder, who was strolling through his quarters with a curved smile. It's just some no-name recruit, so the question is, how did he find out about this? Not even Heaven was alerted about this after years his methods towards this project began to change!

He froze when the perpetrator suddenly looked up at the camera and smiled viciously, delirious to the point that all of his teeth are revealed. Galilei has seen many smiles before, but this one – that is a smile of one who knows exactly what he is doing, knows who is watching him and what is going on, and is going to enjoy every minute of it. It can't be… could it be that this "recruit" isn't some baby-faced newbie, but a hardened mercenary that Cristaldi hired to tail him, who in the end managed to uncover the truth? Is that why that young man who appears to barely just scrape past a decade of his life is so relentless on his pursuit?

Who is this person?!

* * *

(moments earlier)

"Aaaaaand click."

 ***BOOOOOOOM!***

He felt that it needed to be mentioned, but Frost severely overestimated the size of the explosion. He did the calculation and all that, but in the end, his math skills weren't all that great so he just went and use half the available semtex with some precooked frag grenades strapped to each of them. All of that to blow up some fancy door that looks like the entrance to a fallout shelter. Well, it still delivered the results he wanted, so no need to fret over spilled milk.

Perhaps it's because of the last explosion he got caught up in. Could be anything, really.

Loading his light pistol and prepping a holy sword, he ran into the collapsed entryway into this institution he stumbled upon when he tailed that important-looking bishop. Man, it turns out that this place is a lot bigger than he realized. He always thought that underground laboratories were a myth, like that one cartoon he saw before, something about a kid named Dexter who has an annoying sister. Looks like it's the real deal.

He busted his way into a room that appeared to be full of bookcases, packed with scrolls, notebooks, parchments of all kinds that are neatly placed in order. No doubt they're alphabetical. "Hmm… this room looks important," he observed with interest. The young man picked up a manila folder and looked through the contents.

"Hmm… Holy Sword Project… casualties include failure of the following experiments… inconclusive data can mean termination of project if not received well within the time period… final conclusion is possibly the removal of Light elements from defective products to transplanted on other worthy subjects… blah~blah~blah…" He looked through all of it.

Now isn't this interesting… nah, not really.

None of this stuff really mattered to him. Excalibur is still a pretty stupid sword, even if it's known internationally. Wielded by King Arthur who ruled Camelot and all that stuff, who reigned with grace and peace for many years…

What a fucking joke.

Look at how all of that turned out for the guy: his Round Table splintered over the years, his wife and queen cheated on him with his best knight Lancelot, and he was betrayed by his bastard son who tried to usurp the throne, ultimately culminating in his death and spelling the end of Camelot. And now someone's trying to create a worthy wielder of Excalibur? He may not be sentimental, but Frost felt that he's doing someone, maybe even everyone, a big favor if he destroys this entire facility. Kill two birds with one stone, or however the saying goes.

He made his decision, closing the folder.

"Right. Let's burn it all."

He took out a flask of potent oil from his robe and doused the corners of the room, then unpinned an incendiary and threw it at the centre. Watching the room rise in flames briefly to confirm that nothing is spared, he left.

Frost could hear the water sprinklers turning on in an attempt to douse the fire. Sucks for those things. He made sure that his incendiaries are custom-made, with persistence being its strength; enchanted with a special water/wind attribute to make them unable to die from anything except time and the best of water spells. In time, all that important data will be lost, and can be traced back to him. Just the way he wanted it.

It sucks that he doesn't have a Sacred Gear. That would have been helpful in the long run.

He walks past some pillars that looked like support beams to this area, and began to tactically place semtex at the "hotspots". If he wants to get kicked out, he'll need more than just destroying research materials. He'll need lots of destruction. Lots of fire as well, if he can.

"Intruder!" he heard someone around the corner. Once again, he checks to make sure his weapons are ready and primed to attack. He took out a holy sword, watching the blade of light phase into existence. Marveling at it for a moment, he continued and pulled the handgun's slide back to load in a cartridge and aimed down in the direction of the incoming footsteps. From the sounds of it, there are three coming his way and there are no hiding spots to avoid a confrontation. He'll have to neutralize them.

A leg made its appearance around the corner, and he fired two shots immediately, charging forward in the process. "Gah!" The guard did not say anything else as he fell forward. Frost swiftly kicked his jaw, rendering him unconscious. The second recovered and attempted to retaliate, but was immediately elbowed into the chest before he could do anything, knocking out his breath. Frost tackled the gasping guard against the third one, and thrusted the sword through the both of them. Drawing the sword out quickly, he pivoted around the downed second and slashed the third down his back, blood splattering over his face as the third one screamed in pain and fell limp.

Frost looked at the result of his ambush. Damn, that actually felt good. When did he get good with swords, anyhow? Or is it just the featherweight of the holy sword?

Distant footsteps shook him out of his reverie, and he sprinted away as quietly as he could. Control panel room, experiment chamber, laboratory, any of those that could be accessed, he can destroy with enough semtex. If the info is accessed through the internet, then what the hell are the hackers doing by not reporting any of this to the media?

…But then again, no one would believe that the Church has secret experiments, so that would explain the lack of coverage on the in-and-about's of the Church.

However, he had observed this area for the past few days and for all that it is worth, there is a large lack of usage in technology within the Vatican. He has yet to see a laptop or even a phone from anyone. Hell, there isn't even Wi-Fi!

Savages, the lot of them!

God, they better have a damn good reason for all of this, and no, magic is not a good excuse.

Frost dropped backwards immediately, sliding on his back against the surprisingly smooth floor. He slid towards another guard who had his back towards him, which tripped the man, and quickly punched the man at his jaw as he dropped. The poor guy even fell on the back of his head, rendering him unconscious for his own good. He carried the unconscious body into an inconspicuous corner and dropped him there and continued on. One of the perks of being a former thief is knowing the best and quickest way to knock people unconscious, and he is quite proud of being able to drop people with a single punch. So far, it hasn't failed him yet.

Soon enough, he reached a door labeled 'Valper Galilei'. Well, if that doesn't mean ' _very important person's room, do not trespass'_ , then he doesn't know what else. Plus, Galilei is a very important name; specifically, the name Galileo _Galilei_ is important. A known astronomer who is known as the Father of Modern Physics, he was oppressed by and excommunicated from the Church for introducing a subject that made the Church lose their credibility, such as introducing the solar system which went against the notion that the Earth is the center of the universe and whatnot.

In his opinion, Frost thought the man was pretty foolish for advertising his beliefs for everyone to see. He should have waited like Copernicus; publish his works on his deathbed and escape prosecution. Oh well. The man still managed to bring forth a scientific revolution during the 17th century, so good for him, he supposed.

Seeing that the door is locked, he immediately placed weight on one foot, and raised the other to give the door a hard kick near the knob. No need for lockpicking if this place is gonna drop later. Frost walked into the room, smiling at the state. Prim and proper, just as he likes. Still, it's lacking something…

He looked up immediately. There's a camera right there. It's beeping red, which most likely means that it's recording his every movement, which in proxy means that there is someone watching him at this moment… _Perfect_. His _smile_ became ecstatic as he stared into the lenses. With that, there is no doubt in his mind that he'll get caught for this. His face is practically being advertised, so the chance that he gets misidentified is zero.

Raising the light gun, he shot it without fail. The alarms begin to blare. Alright, with that settled, he can just destroy everything, right?

…Why are his palms getting a cold itch?

"Kyeeeeeeeeeah!~" Frost turned around to swing the light sword, blocking another light sword that was aimed towards his neck. "Aww, I got blocked." His attacker looked dismayed. With hair as white as his, the boy who just attacked him looked about his own age, and wore the same priestly vestments that he himself is wearing. If anything, they could pass off as brothers, if only his eyes weren't glinting red like blood.

"Sorry," Frost smiled, despite his close brush with death. "I love life too much to die now."

"No no, I understand," the exorcist brushed away his half-assed apology, hugging his sword now. What a fucking weirdo. "I love killing, and it really makes me sad when I don't get to. Just like how you wouldn't like it if you died, right? Well, I still like my idea more, so it sucks for the both of us, doesn't it?"

"I'm sure idiot-says-what has the answers you want," he replied.

"What?"

Frost smiled, pulling his trusty Tommy gun out, and fired without preamble. Caught entirely off guard, his adversary could do nothing but take the full brunt of 75 consecutive .45 ACP rounds pounding his entire body into mush. In fact, if it weren't for that Kevlar vestment, the target would have been riddled with holes by now. The bullets may not have penetrated the clothes, but the force behind the bullets certainly passed through, dealing a great amount of damage to the internal organs to subdue him for a good amount of time.

The gunner took a moment to study whoever he just gunned down. He smiled brightly, "Oh, wait. I do know you! You're Sellzen, aren't you? Weren't you excommunicated from the Church a moment back?"

"…Get… fucked… Ziegler…" the now-named Sellzen gurgled out between the realms of consciousness and unconsciousness. Oh, he remembers him, too. How delightful!

"I'm doing well, thank you," Frost grabbed Sellzen's legs and dragged him to a probably safe spot outside the room. "So how've you been? How's Sieg doing? You still got that penchant of skullfucking your enemies after doing whatever to kill them- oh wait, he's out of it. Huh." He dusted him (and nicked all of his stuffs along the way) and continued back into Galilei's room like he hadn't just emptied a drum magazine.

"Shame. I can never understand why people don't use their best moves immediately."

* * *

"He… he took out Freed," Galilei gasped in horror, watching Freed get lifelessly dragged away from the security screen. That boy was his last line of defense after those measly numbers of guards. The boy is a violent, atheistic psychopath who had a record number of slain monsters at the ripe age of 13, and was considered a genius exorcist who could have become a Church Hunter if his intentions had not been borderline heresy. Valper had managed to gain Freed's service when he offered to implant the boy with what would soon be his light crystals, and his enthusiasm always move whatever little cockles his heart still retained.

And despite his accomplishments, Freed had been dismantled mercilessly by the intruder in only a scant few seconds. And now, that intruder is pilfering his room, where he will no doubt find incriminating evidences that Cristaldi all but needed to accuse him of blasphemy and excommunicate him. Or even execute him.

No. No! _NO_! Not like this! All his time and dedication will not go wasted by some no-name!

"Gas him."

"Sir?" One of his assistants clearly didn't hear him.

"Gas him! I want him dead, and I want him dead NOW!"

"But sir! The other kids, the other subjects! What about them?"

Valper snarled, "I don't care! We can always acquire more brats from the streets!" Whether or not the bastard dies or not, he must recover his stored data and research in his room. He had just succeeded! He will not let this victory go to waste!

"…At once, sir."

* * *

He can hear gas slowly coming out of vents above him. He frowned at the noise. What is that supposed to mean? Could it be nerve gas? That doesn't sound good at all. Maybe he should turn back now. This room doesn't have anything valuable except a bunch of cassette tapes.

Frost turned around to retreat, leaving the room but then caught sight of a bunch of kids exiting a door, who all froze when they noticed him.

"Oh, fick mich," he cursed under his breath.

* * *

Isaiah kept a wary gaze at the exorcist.

When they had heard the alarms blare, he and his group took that opportunity in the chaos their captors had caused to escape. There must have been some commotion, because there are guards laying about either dead or unconscious.

It couldn't be now. There was still so much that they wanted to do when they finally leave this place.

"Go!" he called out to the others, suddenly coughing as the gas began coming in. They shot him a fearful look. "If he comes after us, I'll hold him off! Go! We don't have much time!"

The children around him hesitated, but one by one, they ran away as fast as they could.

Then he looked at him. Isaiah froze. "Who are you?" he called out to the white-haired exorcist. He didn't reply immediately. The exorcist's blue eyes gazed at him judgmentally like an angel of vengeance. "Are… are you the one who set off that alarm? Are you going to destroy this place?"

Again, he did not reply. Instead, the exorcist took out a remote control. Isaiah's eyes drooped, but quickly he smacked his head in an effort to stay awake. What's going on? Why is his body refusing to obey him?

"Run."

It was a command that came out so drawled that if Isaiah had not been wary of the person in front of him, he wouldn't have caught it. Still, Isaiah did not move.

"RUN, YOU KIKE! DO YOU WANNA GET GASSED?!"

He did not have to speak a third time. It was gas! There was gas killing him at the very moment! He turned quickly and dashed for it, hoping that his friends have already made it. There is a hatch that one of his friends told everyone that was loose and led to the outside of this damned place.

He did not know if his friends made it out or not. All he knew is that the person who would destroy this place had saved him. He had saved them. He and his friends had only begun to notice that there was something very wrong happening, and had concocted a plan to escape. Some of them… some of them did not make it. He shook his head. He cannot mourn them now. Not yet.

Isaiah made a silent promise at that very moment, that he would repay this unknown person if he made it out of this.

* * *

"Goddamn, that kid took long enough," Frost cursed. The blond kid looked only a year younger than himself, but he could tell that the boy is weak and with the gas now blasting out in full, he needed to get out of here. Both him and the kid, of course. It's a good thing he has a mask on him. Well, not really a mask; it's just a surgical mask he swiped from the church's little nursing room. But it should be good, right?!

Well, might as well blow this place up. The semtex better be worth it. He pressed the button, and allowed the satisfaction of blowing up a building travel in his body. Imagine watching a building that was scheduled for a demolition become nothing in a span of a few seconds. Now what if the person who demolished it was you? That was the feeling Frost is feeling right now.

A part of the marble ceiling fell and landed next to him. Frost looked at it rather dimly, and wondered why he didn't react to it when it was literally inches away from crushing his skull.

His palms' cold itch blared to life, and he barely avoided a bolt that flew and brushed his forehead, which sliced deeply but did not penetrate. Ignoring the wound that was now bleeding down his face, he turned to the offender. It's the old bishop Frost had been tailing earlier, and he looks _pissed_ , perhaps even literally, if the stain around his groin indicated anything. Well, he can't really tell if he is mad because he's also wearing one of those top-end gas masks.

"You…" Frost heard him snarl under his breath, who hastily fumbled to load another bolt onto his crossbow, "YOU! You destroyed my research! ALL OF THEM! All those years of hard work… all the time spent to create the perfect wielders of Excalibur… years upon years of sacrifice… all lost because of YOU!"

Frost couldn't contain it. His smile widened to a face-splitting proportion, which seemed to frighten the old man. The "mission" is a complete success.

" _Good,_ " he uttered with extreme delight.

* * *

The _child_ had said it with such viciousness, and took extreme joy in his despair. Valper took a step back at such an alien response.

"You…" the man's fury slowly morphed into fear as the child… no, the _monster,_ stepped forward, unaware that _its_ bleeding visage and wide, gleaming smile painted the image of a horrific demon in human skin. "You're no human… did Cristaldi send you- no. No. NO! Stay back! STAY BACK!"

The boy began to laugh with deranged abandonment. Valper raised the crossbow with trembling hands, but with his hands shaking hard from terror, his aim was utterly off-center, the bolt only managing to cut the straps of the surgical mask off. He despaired as his adversary charged, hand reaching out and yanking away his only means of protection violently. The crossbow was raised high into the air, and smashed downward. Not even sparing a second, an impact against his leg dislocated his kneecap.

Valper collapsed ungraciously, his forehead now sporting an open gash and leaking blood. Whimpers of pain and fear escaped him as he clawed the ground with frenzied fingers, as if it would help him get away from this abomination. It did not. He felt his entire body get turned over forcefully.

His last memories of the whole ordeal is the butt of the crossbow closing in rapidly to his face.

* * *

"Ahahahahah- *cough* *cough*!"

Frost choked in the middle of his gleeful laughter. Knocking the priest out was wholly unnecessary, but man, did it feel good. He was starting to get annoying.

Oh, and the gas is getting into his system. That sucks. In retrospect, he should have taken the old bishop's gas mask off before bashing his nose with that broken crossbow.

His eyes now fluttering uncontrollably, the only thing keeping him from dropping unconscious is him biting his tongue. At least once he is out of the gas, then he can pass out. Goodness, this isn't how he wants to go. He still needs to do… something. Something… what was it he needed to do?

Bah, blasted gas. Fuzzy reminisce isn't going to save him life. That can come later.

Frost traversed the labyrinth with fading conscience, limiting his air intake as he went. He was dimly aware that his body had lost control. He had already fallen to the ground, slowly becoming aware that he had stopped moving. He did not panic, though. He did not panic, because soon afterwards, someone had picked him up in support before it could set in. With whatever little strength was remaining, he turned his head to his savior. It is a bishop. Not the old guy he had bashed. A different person, who is helping him with determination in his eyes. In his haze, he could not make out the finer details, but he'll definitely remember that chestnut-colored hair.

Soon, the two of them made it out, fresh air finally replacing the deathly gas. And they are greeted with a squadron of exorcists stationed outside the very doors.

At the front, Simona gazed at the boy who weakly smiled at her.

"You are very troublesome, did you know that?" she asked without a change in expression.

Frost shrugged, "I get by."

And then he fainted.

* * *

He honestly expected to be in a hospital that isn't in the Church. But alas, he's back in the Church nursing room.

Frost woke up with a groan, forcing himself up with sore arms. Whatever was in that gas, it did wonders to him. Extremely unpleasant wonders he would rather not experience again, but wonders regardless. He might need to know what components are in that gas. If he could use it-

"FROST ZIEGLER!"

He smiled excitedly and quickly schooled it into an expression of regret. Here it comes. Ewald Cristaldi marched briskly forth, his stern countenance paving a path towards Frost's not-very-sorry ass. "I've received reports of destruction that contain details that are suspiciously similar to the vampire case you were involved in. Cartridges that were possibly used by your gun were found inside the compound that was raided and investigated. Signs of explosives of questionable origins were found at multiple regions throughout the antechamber. Ashes have been found in specific rooms that could have housed information of sort."

Cristaldi's voice had grown sharp enough to cut through steel. Frost found himself relishing it.

"Is it true that you invaded the inner sanctums of the Church and attempted to destroy the contents stored in them?"

Frost did not have to lie. "Yes."

"Do you accept that this is your own doing?"

"Yes."

"Do you believe yourself to be some _hero_ , Ziegler?"

With as much control as he could, he nodded solemnly. "What I did was… unprecedented. It was not within my jurisdiction. I should have notified a higher-up rather than charge in blindly like some fool. I… I am sorry. I am ready for whatever punishment I deserve for this."

He turned his gaze downward in what he hopes is a look of self-anger.

"I should have known," Cristaldi gave a cold stare. "I should have known that when you first came here, you would cause something. You risked your own life. You risked the lives of others who reside within this holy ground. You disregarded the fact that you could have dragged everything the Church had built from centuries upon centuries into the ground."

The Deacon stared down at him with aquiline eyes.

"You are not exorcist material."

Frost closed his eyes, ready to accept his immediate termination from the exorcist registrar.

"…You are _brilliant_ exorcist material."

...What.

The older man's cold stare broke away to reveal a warm gaze, "We've done further investigations into the institution you had recently raided on our own. The bishop who had carried you out to safety confessed the whole thing. As it turns out, the Holy Sword Project had violated not just a good number of decrees that were placed to keep us from perverting ourselves, but also the natural laws of humanity and what is deemed right and just in our Lord's eyes. The project has been shut down indefinitely, every remaining amounts of research confiscated, and Valper Galilei will pay for his sacrilege. You are the first to find out this blasphemy, and thus why I am here."

What.

"You've exceeded my expectations beyond what I had previously thought," Cristaldi smiled at him, patting Frost's shoulder much like a proud father would to his son when he found out he lost his virginity. "You are the true definition of what an exorcist is meant to be. The sword and spear in His hands… the hammer and gauntlet about His fist. The deliverer of mercy to the lame and pained… the executioner of the sinful and depraved."

WHAT. NO. Not like this!

"It was the right decision for you to stay with us, Ziegler. You saw heresy, and you accordingly took action. Your efforts will set a new precedence for our aspiring warriors in their fight against the Lord's enemies, both now and forevermore."

 _'NOOOOOO! NOOOOOOOOO!'_ "Thank you, sir. But, I don't think I deserve this..." Frost managed to keep his despairing thoughts from being voiced.

He nodded strongly. The boy is humble, even after such a great accomplishment. A trait the young ones need these days. "You deserve your rest, son. Know that everyone now has their eyes on you. I can now say, with conviction this time, that you will do us – _all_ of us – proud." With one last pat on the boy's shoulders, Ewald left the premise. There is much to report to the Pontiff's Council now. The Holy Sword Project, the few survivors they found in its ruins, the trial and judgment of the heretic Valper Galilei and his bodyguard Freed Sellzen… and Frost Ziegler's lone involvement in the project's dismantlement.

On the other hand, Frost stared blankly at the door the Deacon had left through, and once he was sure there is no one around, he let the air know how he felt.

"…fffffffFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUU–!"

* * *

 **A/N: Aww. Poor Frost.**

– **DarkAkatsuk1**


End file.
